


The Broken

by greentangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Tyrion being a good friend, Weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greentangerine/pseuds/greentangerine
Summary: Queens suppose to have rough days too. What happens if the Hand of the Queen cares not only for political issues, but for the strange state of Her Grace?





	The Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It`s my first fanfiction EVER, and English is not my mother tongue (actually I`m Russian), and it all happened so quickly that I couldn`t resist. I started shipping those two since their first meeting because I adore Dany, I adore Tyrion, and poor babies deserve to be happy together! And, you know, Dany/Tyrion is so rare to be written together? So I decided to fix this problem on my own!  
> Also this work helped me to go through my own troubles a lot, and I hope it would be inspiring for you as well. Please forgive my grammatical or/and lexical mistakes, I did my best not to look into Google Translate too much. Hope you enjoy this work!
> 
> A song which made the atmosphere of Dragonstone more real: Distant Dream – Sleeping Waves

Something was wrong.

He heard it lately at night while walking through the long corridors of Dragonstone Castle: quiet, almost muffled sobs. Firstly he thought that it was his strange hallucination, because, really – why would somebody cry so late at night and, well – during the war? Of course that was stressing for all of them, but he never saw anybody among them crying, even young handmaidens of the Queen.

Now soft sobs were spreading right through his ears to the mind, and they sounded so, so familiar after all nights of Sansa crying. His heart clenched on the image of her red eyes full of grief and hollow, and he closed his own eyes, trying to kick that remembrance away.

Crying was the sign of being alive and aching. He didn`t like the thought of some girl aching right now behind this walls and hurried to leave the corridor.

Later, sitting in his chambers with the glass of sweet wine, he thought that maybe that girl did the right thing. Crying was a release of pain, and pain was what he felt every day, every minute of his life; and sipping the wine was his release of it. Pain of being afraid, being lost in the destroyed world, being not sure if the next step is the way to death – but nobody showed this pain. It was like a shadow, a thin veil above their heads. He drank again and made a deep breath.

The sobs were so small and shuddering that it was nonsense to think about that great pain. Some people, he thought with envy, was still alive during all that horror – and they laughed, and kissed, and loved deeply, and then they broke up. Life was stronger than death anyway. Sometimes he could see the town under the castle full of flowers and people laughing and dancing. The scarier the days are, the more celebrations people have. However, it was only making him bitter than usual, and he thought a lot about his miserable life of drunken dwarf, feeling numb most of the time and drink more when not. Thoughts sometimes were a heavy burden.

 _Surely,_ he decided, _some small girl is crying of being rejected, nothing more._

 

***

 

Meanwhile she felt like she was a heavy burden herself.

The Small Council in the morning went hard; she made a huge effort to listen her lords and ladies, but something was persistently throbbing in her head after that long night. She tried not to drink much, though she loved the taste of the Arbor gold. Now it could cause her vomiting.

She also tried to push her mood away to the backwards of her mind.

At some point she felt somebody watching at her carefully and caught a pair of mismatched eyes. Lord Tyrion was looking at her with some… Was it curiosity? Or concern? She averted her gaze from him quickly. Her Hand was observant as usual, even when it wasn`t needed. He stopped watching at her only when she stood up to finish the Small Council. Maybe others have noticed her mood too. She went to her rooms, followed by Missandei, feeling the skirts of her dress sliding on her frozen legs. It was always freezing there, and warm dresses were her only saviors on this cold cliff. She opened the door into her chambers and shivered under the salty wind. How she is supposed to manage with this climate? Poor Missandei is trembling every day, let alone her Unsullied soldiers. Thank Gods they have a hearth in every room.

It was so strange to think about this place as a home, but it was her true home, her birthplace. The Targaryens were always the owners of this castle, and she was still a Targaryen, after all.

_Blood of the dragon._

She shivered again and let Missandei leave; lately she heard something about her maiden spending time with a Grey Worm in her chambers, and deep down she was glad. Missandei, sweet, loyal Missandei was her only friend; she could forbid her from visiting Grey Worm, and Missandei would obey, but – she knew she couldn`t. Missandei deserved the happiness more then she herself. It was egoistic to think that she would spend all her live near her throne.

Stupid, childish thoughts. She silently slid to the huge window to close its sashes. Wind was tugging and ruffling her snow-white curls, soaking them with sea salt. Sea was raging at the foot of the Dragon Cliff, roaring like wounded beast, darkening its waters. Sea always mesmerized her, and sometimes she chuckled mentally at thought of being a pirate. Maybe it was the bad influence of Yara Greyjoy. She always admired women who were so strong and reckless. Who were all she wasn`t.

No, no crying tonight or all court will notice that bags under her eyes. She has to be fresh and beautiful as a proper Queen. She is a woman, and woman must be a fighter in this man world to be respected. After all, what was the reason to cry? Her sudden weakness? What a silly girl she would be thought if somebody found out.

She blinked away needless tears and climbed onto the windowsill. Sea seemed to be endless from this point. She was lost in its waves smashing against the rocks, lost in gloomy thoughts about her grim past and no less grim and fearful future. She knew how to rule. She knew how to be the queen. She was just… slightly unconfident about how to be a queen of a foreign land. Of course, her Hand told a lot about Westeros; she has read many books there about history of each house: Lannister, Stark, Tyrell, Martell… They were her future lieges. That`s what she imagined many weeks, many years ago.

Now she felt like she was made from glass. Frail. Thin. Ready to break.

 _The night is dark and full of terrors,_ she remembered the Rhllor priestess`s words and thought, _so am I_. Images in her head were flashing in strange sort of dance, forcing her to remember everything. Death of her husband whom she loved deeply and strangled him without any feelings, killing something in her heart too; death of the people who trusted her, who called her _Mhysa_ , whom she betrayed; warm feeling of her son inside her womb and black void filling the emptiness after his death; eyes of Jorah when he said he loved her and heard no answer; eyes, arms, lips of Daario left back in Meeren. Everything she ever dared to love has been broken into pieces. Everyone.

More than her life, she loved people who were loyal to her now.

And she was afraid. Yet she knew there would be loss, but it was still a big price to pay for her reign. Was that worth it? Sometimes she felt like power was glimmering inside her mind, and sometimes it was flowing away between the fingers. Sometimes she did mistakes, and blame would fall on her shoulders like a mountain. Back in the Meeren at one night – she could recall that wonderful summer night as clear as it was there – she promised not to make mistakes. Westeros wouldn`t take the weak queen.

She blamed herself for feeling weak, unworthy, even dirty with the blood of her dead, and there was nothing to stop her tears.

Something was obviously wrong.

Maybe it was feeling of loneliness spreading in her heart without lover. Lovers helped her not to be afraid of night, because all she could see at night was her own darkness. Lovers were warm and gentle. _Like a good wine_ , she thought, _maybe I need to drink more_. Tyrion drinks a lot – and yet he is the cleverest person among them. Though maybe he has his own reasons to drink. Sometimes she caught him with the expression full of anguish and sorrow. She didn`t know much about his past and wasn`t sure if she wants to know.

She came back to the vision of him staring at her in the Small Council and felt slightly disturbed. He was her closest adviser; certainly he has noticed some changes. Tomorrow he would ask her if she was feeling well, as her feeling were transparent to see – or he could read her like open book. He could feel her rage and calm her quickly. He could enlighten her mood with silly jokes. He gave her his opinion and listen to her attentively. He even noticed when she had her moon blood cramps and always asked for some tea for her. She liked spending time with him, talking, laughing and drinking. It felt like being near the hearth after the long journey.

But with him she was still a powerful, unbending woman, and it was stupid to reveal him her other side. Even Missandei rarely saw her crying.

She wiped thick tears running on her red cheeks and jumped off the windowsill. She must go to sleep.

Though it take her a time to fall into anxious dreams under heavy damp blanket.

 

***

 

\- Are the Queen ill?

He heard it from the maidens, walking through the corridors of the castle again, and sent them a death glare. He felt something like offense – and concern: truly, something was wrong with Daenerys Targaryen.

It has been some days since that Small Council when she looked all tired and sleepy, with red eyes and bags under them. He tried not to gaze too much but noticed how bad she felt. He wanted to ask if she caught a cold – some of her Essosi soldiers were already ill, but… It wasn`t looking like a cold at all.

She was just deeply tired.

\- May I ask you a question, Your Grace?

It was after another Small Council, during stormy morning, when he came up with the idea.

\- Surely, Lord Tyrion.

She was standing in front of him, small, dressed in a black and crimson wool dress, with unreadable expression covering her features. Maybe it was better to leave her alone. Maybe she would consider him a fool.

 _Looks as you aren`t used to be considered a fool,_ he snorted to the thought.

\- Would you mind strolling around, Your Grace?

Surprisingly she seemed to smile weakly.

\- It would be my pleasure.

And that`s how they stood now near the Dragonstone wall far from the castle. It was a small place hidden from any strangers; but not that was important. A stunning view was showing from there: huge rocks and cliffs, licked by the black waves, breaking them into the seafoam. The air was still thick of the wetness. Maester said that there would be storms till the end of week. 

\- Impressive.

She turned to face him fully, and he didn`t find any hints of sarcasm in her voice.

\- Yeah. Sometimes I come there to stay alone with myself. To think, - he swallowed, suddenly nervous. No need to let the Queen know about his issues. He continued: - Do you know that is…

\- A place where dragons were taking off, - she nodded, looking around, - You have told me that story a week ago.

\- But I`ve never showed it.

\- Is that why we are there?

He averted his eyes from the bloody spot of her figure.

\- Partly.

She sighed and came closer to the edge of wall, trying to look under the cliff, to feel the distance to the sea surface. The sky was darkening again, covering with purple layer of storm clouds; the wind started to blow harder, frightening the seagulls and shattering their flock like the snowball into the snowflakes. He liked watching the beginning of the storm; he spent a lot of his childhood hanging out in the Casterly Rock`s bay. It was threateningly beautiful every time.

Like she was, Daenerys Stormborn.

\- Something concerns you, - he stated breathlessly, staring to the sea, - You are not yourself lately, you know?

\- And how do you know? – Her voice sounded flat and hoarse somehow.

\- You`re like.. wandering somewhere. You`re thinking of different things. Dreaming maybe.

She turned to him and eyed him fixedly.

\- Maybe I am, - he tried not to tremble under that fierce gaze, - Maybe I am not. Maybe you worry too much.

\- I know you, - he said simply, - I know your sharp mind and vivid curiosity, how you care about your kingdom, and now it`s gone. You look like the Others sucked all your soul. Something happened, my Queen. And it bothers me a lot, because we need you healthy and strong as you always are.

\- Strong, - she echoed and fell silent.

He froze, waiting of her reaction, no matter what it would be. Deeply he felt guilty of disturbing her. Though he cared for her a lot, she was a grown-up woman, a queen, always surrounded by people and paying attention to each person.

Maybe he worried too much. Maybe she didn`t need his worries.

Something flashed in her eyes like a lightning when she came to him closer – too closer – and he felt how she studied his features, towering above his head, looking tensed, even offended. A rash of fear ran down his spine.

\- You don`t know me. You don`t know what I can be.

His heart skipped a beat.

\- You don`t need to, though, - she wrapped her arms around her body, - The queen side is enough.

\- I have seen many masks in my life, Your Grace. I`m sick of them.

\- Not all people can live without masks.

For a second he saw a glint of water in her violet eyes.

\- Sometimes it`s better not to show what hides under it.

 _Is she going mad?_ – thought stung him, - _Like her father?_ The fear flew through his body again, mixed with uneasiness. What a woman she was to feel him so concerned about her state?

\- Your Grace, - he watched her reverting her eyes, - You know you can trust me. I am always yours to listen to your troubles.

Storm clouds were approaching Dragonstone, full of ominous purple darkness. The wind grew colder and disheveled white locks of the queen, making her hair look like a crown from a seafoam. He covered his eyelids. Maybe he should feel regret.

\- You are my Hand, not my girlfriend, Tyrion Lannister, - she spat, - You advise me in politics, and I appreciate it. But, - she looked at him angrily, even – painfully? – I ask your opinion when I need it.

\- Of course, Your Grace, - he added quickly, cursing himself mentally. That`s it. Stupid, stupid idea to talk her out, to hope she would open her heart freely. She is a highborn lady and now she reminded him Sansa a lot –indifferent and reserved. _And she,_ he frowned, _had all reasons for it_. She never called him a friend, after all.

\- No advice is needed for my soul, Lord Tyrion. I think I`d manage somehow without it.

Storm clouds were now everywhere – above the towers of Dragonstone, around the cliffs, the rising waves, - and even in her eyes they were forming a hurricane. She made her way back to the castle, walking past him tall, wearing an invisible armor. She was lost to him.

Like everyone he dared to love.

\- And Lord Tyrion, - she turned to him one last time, - I hate when people try to crawl into my soul without permission.

 

***

 

She went to sleep earlier then it was time to supper.

It was late night when she was up again, awakened by drops of the rain shooting her window. Dragonstone was sleeping under the lullaby of the rain, leaving her in uncomfortable silence. She got up and rubbed her tired eyes, swollen from crying.

She was aching – for herself and for her Hand both. No doubt, she offended him. Tyrion Lannister, the cleverest, the kindest, the noblest man she knew, cared for her. She opened the bottle of wine and took a sip. Somebody would think that she had no manners, but she didn`t care.

She was alone now. No, _lonely._

The storm fell on the Dragonstone right after they returned to the castle. She left him in the yard without any words and fled to her chambers, ashamed of herself. She didn`t dare to look straight into his eyes. She was captured by regret, because he was the last person to listen her rambling. Yet one more reason to blame herself. Tyrion Lannister wasn`t the man to lose the temper at.

In fact, he was her closest adviser, - and she was stubborn to admit her affection for him. And then she offended him deeply.

She was thinking about that not as a queen, but as person offending other person. Queens shouldn`t be so sensitive. Queens hide under the masks, change them and play with masks of other people. Westeros knew only that kind of queens. She slapped herself at the thought. How low she fell to accept their terms? What was that all about breaking the wheel? A wind?

She was a Daenerys Stormborn, a Khaleesi of the Great Green Sea, Queen of Meeren. Perhaps she wouldn`t be there now under other circumstances. It was her duty to be worthy of her title. She thought about Tyrion and broken trust again. Then she fell on her knees and cried. A lot. She cried until she felt an aching numbness overflowing her chest. The issue was that she was unworthy of her kingdom, her name, her best people even.

Pain filled her quickly like water fills a jar. _Something was always wrong_ , she thought again bitterly, _because there is no place for me there_. _Because I`m going crazy. Because it`s not normal to feel odd when your biggest dream soon come true._ Suddenly she caught a sight in the mirror in front of her – and saw broken girl in the nightshift, with red face and wild hair. Once that girl, shaking from the horror, laid with Khal Drogo and became his Khaleesi. Once she lost him. Once she became a warrior and has conquered Slaver`s Bay. Once she was full of power and revenge.

She pulled her knees up to her chin, trying to calm herself, and in that moment she saw the door opening.

 

***

 

Wine didn`t relax him at all. He hated when he had no control under thoughts, but somehow wine shushed them usually.

Sleep was long gone. Since there was no Queen at supper, he exchanged glances with Varys and Missandei. Things were bad if Daenerys didn`t supper with them. Maybe she was still angry at him. _You stupid fool,_ he scolded at himself, _go and apologize for being so intrusive._

\- Her Grace is sleeping, - Missandei sounded confused, - She won`t come.

That was strange. Maybe he should talk with Maester about her case; it would be better not linked with something mental. The Queen was young and full of energy. How it came up to this result? For a moment, he hesitated with desire of running and checking if she was alright.

Suddenly he felt a thin barrier between concern and affection to Daenerys and questioned himself where he was.

Another sip of wine didn`t help, and when it didn`t, he ran. He ran from his chambers into the cold corridor of the castle, ran to the yard, to the spot where she left him today. He even didn`t notice the rain at first. Cold drops were banging on his leather jacket, soaking his curly hair and face, cutting like small knifes. He wondered if the rain lulled her to sleep. He even imagined her in the sleep and cursed himself immediately. _No time for your sudden affections, Tyrion Lannister._

_I hate when people try to crawl into my soul without permission._

He stood there under the rain, remembering how he saw her in the Meeren, her dragons, her imperious voice and blooming beauty of the youth. How he admired her mature, rational way of ruling. How he was grateful to be at her side. How she talked with him like with equal, listened his stories, laughed at his jokes and he felt like being alive, though earlier he thought he was dead inside.

How the worry burned his gut when he was thinking of her troubles.

_Who are you, Daenerys Targaryen, and what are you doing with me?_

He returned to castle dripping with wet, tired, confused even more then he was. Dragonstone was deserted and peaceful, looking abandoned in the darkness of storm. He walked straight to the ladder to his chambers, not allowing himself to think that Queen`s chambers were at the end of corridor – and then he heard it again.

Shaking, muffled sobs.

 _Oh Seven, I won`t sleep tonight at all._ Images of Sansa came back. He stopped and listened to crying girl, trying to recognize the source of sound. At some point his heart faltered from pity. Poor thing still couldn`t ease her pain. He stepped from the ladder and made his way through corridor to the Queen`s chambers and then remembered that Missandei`s chambers were in the opposite.

But there was no sound – and reason – from Missandei`s side to think she is crying. Sobs were qoing from the wooden door covered with the gold dragons. He took the door handle cautiously and opened it, wrinkling at the creaking of the hinges, not sure what he was about to see.

Something moved in his heart at thought he had already heard her crying. 

 A small female figure was sitting on the floor with the knees pulled up to the chin. Her hair was a mess, still braided and bundled, but with some untwined parts sticking out. Her nightshift seemed too big for her stature. She was shuddering with sobs, hiding her face on the knees.  _She looks like a child,_ he thought,  _broken, forgotten child._

\- Your Grace, - he whispered, unwilling to frighten her.

She turned to the sound of his voice and nearly jumped of sudden.

\- Tyrion!

Her face was wet and red from the tears, and now she reminded him an animal victim on the hunt, full of fear of being caught. She gazed at him for some time. Ah, he was soaked to the skin, of course. He smirked mentally at the sight in her eyes. A dwarf Hand coming to the Queen`s chamber at night right from the rain.

Yet she was looking at him silently and he gathered himself to – another stupid thing:

\- Why are you crying?

He approached her bed slowly while she made no move.

\- You skipped the supper.

\- I wasn`t hungry, - she lied and swallowed hardly, fighting with tears again.

\- Missandei was worrying a lot about you, - he pointed, - She couldn`t stop talking about your late state.

He almost felt her froze.

\- Missandei shouldn`t, - her voice was all sorrow, - She is so happy with Grey Worm, she shouldn`t even think about it.

\- Is it all about Missandei?

She stared dumbstruck to her feet, avoiding his eyes again.

\- Not only she is worrying, - he said softly.

Another uneasy silence. Finally, he managed to get rid of stupid thoughts and focused on the thin trails of tears on her cheeks. She was not ready to tell him what was the cause of them, not yet. So he waited.

Honestly, every crying woman made him nearly cry too.

\- May I ask you, - she said shyly and sniffed, - to hug me? Please.

\- Is it an order? – he slightly smiled.

\- A request.

She shuddered again when he wrapped his hands around her waist gently, as if he was holding something porcelain. That was a different Daenerys Targaryen – feared, insecure, pleading for help. She squeezed his back in reply. All of sudden he thought that maybe, maybe he is the first who sees her being _herself_ , being true Daenerys Targaryen without any masks. Being just a girl who suffered from being sold, raped, left by all whom she loved and lost her power to raise again.

Then she burst into tears, and his world crumpled to the small space around her back and white mess of hair.

\- I`m a weak, - he heard between her sobs, while she pressed her forehead on his shoulder.

\- No, Your Grace, you`re not.

\- I`m not Your Grace, I`m not Grace at all, I`m just a wrong person in a wrong place…

\- Who told you that? How you came up with that nonsense?

She moved away from him, looking straight into his eyes, flooding him with pain. His heart ached at that sight, because this woman meant so much for him, yet she was so different. And he wasn`t going to leave her in that state of her mood. Actually, in any state. 

\- I`m a loss. It`s like a pool of black water pulls me to the very bottom. Every day, - she blinked the tears away and barely whispered, - It feels like I`m unworthy of my throne. Of all that I have, - her breath became harder, - Because all I have I lose, all I love I have lost, and I`m too weak to feel courage again, Tyrion, too weak, as if all my power died under those cliffs, what if it never came back?

She broke into long crying, and he gave her time to cry her soul out. There she was, shrinking into his body, as if she was searching for some warm in his embrace.

\- Sometimes I feel so stupid, feel like all my court despise me of being so foolish, - he tried his best to remember any time when she was acting foolish, but without any success, - I feel like I am arrogant or mad as my father was, I feel nearly mad even now, because I don`t know what does it mean, what should I do with those feelings, I`m so weak, I just can`t hold it anymore, and…

\- Shhh, - he dared to pat her on the back, - You`re saying nonsense. No, - he continued, seeing her eager to say something, - Just listen to me and try not to cry much. Is it okay?

She stared at him, then swallowed and gave him a nod. He then hugged her tightly and began to speak.

\- Daenerys Stormborn, first of Her Name. I remember how I heard about Queen had given birth to you. How strange it was, thinking about another child left without mother far, far away, - and you was there, in this castle, small and weak, like you think you are now. You know, - he heard her sobbing, - The madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world hold it breath to see how it will land. And here you are, and I see no sign of madness, but strong, glorious woman ready to take up the Seven Kingdoms.

She struggled to say something, but stood silent; so he pushed away to see her eyes now.

\- Look at me. What do you see? She suddenly looked uncertain.

\- The bravest and cleverest man of all men I knew, - and he chuckled at that, deeply feeling something lighten under his ribs.

\- The dwarf, the Imp, the Demon Monkey – that`s what people said. That`s what I thought myself for a long, long time. And when I was young, I cried a lot about it. I felt needless, ugly, and odd. I felt like I was a burden for my family. Without all that thoughts… - he bit his lip, - I`m not sure if I became who I am now.

She stopped sobbing and looked at him with something like compassion. Or he found compassion in those dark violet eyes.

\- Crying doesn`t make you weak.

\- You think so?

\- Can you imagine me crying? – she smiled at his question, – Oh, I cried so much I could fill the ocean. There were a good times. Crying, drinking and crying, and disappointing father every time he saw me, - he smirked sarcastically and she let out a small chuckle. He suddenly stared at her smiling, into her eyes starting to replace sorrow with her usual joy, and felt so, so lost in them.

\- However, you shouldn`t cry, - he patted her shoulder, - Just shouldn`t. You just can`t see how inspiring you are. Young, clever and lively, truly goddess.

\- Now I feel even guiltier for crying, - she dropped quickly, her face felt, but he wasn`t going to let her return to gloomy mood.

\- Even goddesses are to cry sometimes, you know. Some tribes believe that rain is the tears of gods. Have you seen that storm today? You can be dangerous sometimes, Daenerys Stormborn.

Now she laughed fully and averted her eyes to the floor.

\- Is that why you are wet?

 _Partly,_ he thought, _both of rain and being stupid._ Still he had to apologize to her.

They held each other in comfortable silence for some seconds more, tangled in embrace, listening the sound of their breaths, and then she stiffened behind his shoulder:

\- I need to apologize for my behavior, Lord Tyrion.

\- I thought we weren`t speaking of lords and ladies in your case, - he reminded, - just you and me, like old friends.

 _Like old friends,_ he thought bitterly, _how easy it is to consider being her friend, hugging her so tight._

\- Nevertheless, - she went on, - I hope I didn`t offend you. I really do. Will you forgive me, L… Tyrion?

_You had every reason to shut up my mouth and yet you are apologizing._

\- No, never, - he grimaced, but then realized she couldn`t see him, and stopped mocking, - You did no harm, Daenerys. It was my fault for being so meddling. I shouldn`t have acted like that.

\- Oh, - he heard her sighing deeply, - You better stop feeling guilty, Tyrion Lannister, or I order you to so it.

\- As you want, my Queen, - a smile tugged the edges of his lips, - I suppose it sounds like a truce?

\- And there was any war?

\- There was you leaving all of us trembling with worry, and that`s all, - he resumed.

\- I promise I wouldn`t do that again. Not without you.

She was watching at him, and some softness crossed her features. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

\- Thank you, Tyrion, for all you did for me, for all you do every day.

\- It would be my honor, Your Grace.

Finally, he released her from his arms and stood; his legs echoed with pain from sitting in such uncomfortable posture. She rose too, still looking like a mess but undoubtedly beautiful. His heart skipped a beat again. Maybe the only way to understand the broken was to be broken too.

Maybe the way of falling in love with them was the same.

\- Do I have something on my face? – she frowned, and he scolded himself for staring.

\- Your hair is a completely mess, - he admitted, - I think your maidens will curse you to death.

She laughed at his joke, white as a ghost in her huge nightshift, and ran her fingers through the nestle of her hair. She stood tall and proud, his Queen, and deeply he felt something like pride for her too. After all, she had survived too many horrors for such a young person. He felt like he was responsible for her confidence. For her lust for life, even.

A fire could not kill a dragon, let alone the storm. She was the living fire herself, and nobody could not extinguish it. Not while he was at her side.

\- Goodnight, Your Grace, - he said then and bowed, - The sun will rise soon. Try to sleep as long as you can.

\- Small Council, - she reminded him, - Nobody can skip a Small Council.

\- You`ll decide it tomorrow, - he assured and received a chuckle from her, - Sleep well now.

He turned to walk out of her chambers when he heard her:

\- Tyrion! – She wasn`t moving, still eyeing him fixedly, - You are my closest friend, you know.

He stopped, frozen with her words, feeling something like flush creeping on his neck and thinking _surely I am the damn fool._

\- I would be honored, Your Grace.

And then Tyrion Lannister closed the wooden door, rushing to his chambers, feeling suddenly dry because of the heat of the body and the heart burning of sudden silent joy.


End file.
